


a name is truth

by jessamoo



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Ficathon, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:17:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessamoo/pseuds/jessamoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrote this for a prompt on a ficathon on lj "the few times she called him Rene."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a name is truth

No one calls him by his first name. Honestly, he forgets that people even know it. It becomes like a memory to him sometimes, or a secret. Aramis does not get lost in the blood, the mud, the feel of the trigger under his finger, because underneath it all, Rene is the name that anchors him in the world. Sometimes he tells the women he’s with, he likes to hear his real name on their lips (it also means that any angry husbands that it a little harder to identify him)

That’s not what he thinks about when he whispers it to Anne, their fingers entwined on his chest, long after the candles have burnt out and the birds have begun to chirp their morning songs. He thinks of it as delivering a part of himself to her, it’s a tie that binds them together. A name is an important thing, a name is truth. 

She doesn't like when he calls her ‘her majesty’. He sees the spark of guilt that flashes through her eyes, he sees that it is a crown that weighs. And so, in silent agreement, they whisper their true names and he feels it against his skin, ghosting over him, sinking into him. 

“Rene.” She says, trying it out on her tongue. A small smile tugs at his lips. The name doesn't feel foreign when she says it, he can see it on her face, like the syllables envelope her. Just as she says it, the first rays of sun break through and spread themselves through the room. Golden haze all around them, his breath hitches in his throat. Its like a divine sign, the light catches on the golden cross around his neck, Anne’s token. 

“Say it again.” He whispers, leaning his face to rest on her forehead. 

And she does.

 

The next time she says it, she screams it.

Not the way he had dreamt her doing so, its not breathless and pure and good. Its strangled and scared and scratched.

“Rene!” Anne watches him fall to the ground and the name rips from her without thought. It is the only word she can think. The sound of gunshots deafen her, the tears in her eyes blind her, the smoke in the air chokes her.   
Hands grab at her and try to pull her away, she doesn't even know who they belong to. Everything is blurry around her, but she manages to push them away and surge forward.

She crashes down beside him, she can barely turn him where he lay face down, but when she does he lets out a groan. He lifts his arm in confusion, but when his eyes settle on her he smiles and puts his hand to her face, his fingers leaving a streak of violent red blood on her cheek.

“Aramis. Are you alright? Your bleeding! Your bleeding!” she yells again. He has a gunshot wound in his shoulder and she can feel her heart sink at the sight.

“Rene…” she whispers. Suddenly his eyes widen and he lets out an angry, pained grunt and rolls over into a sitting position.

“Get her out of here!” he yells over her shoulder, and she spins as she realises the other musketeers are coming up behind her to help.

She realises what a mistake she’s made, how reckless she had been. She’s not just putting herself in danger but him too. She was always putting him in danger. She wants to apologise. She wants to look at his face again before she’s taken away. She turns back to him as two of the others take her hands and gently but firmly pull her up. 

He see’s her says his name rather than hears it, and after that all he sees his the back of her retreating. But there was something else he caught, that she did not. The concerned look between Athos and Porthos when she said it.

 

She doesn't remember saying it the next time. Delirious and in pain as midwives and nurses rushed around in a frenzy.

Aramis paces the way he has been doing for the last hour outside the room whilst his friends watch him, getting increasingly annoyed at him. Occasionally he stops and tries to sit down, tapping his foot for a minute, until they hear another anguished cry from in the delivery room and he jumps up again. Because he can’t burst in there like he wants to, he settles for pacing again.

Given any other situation, one of the others would have made a joke about about how anyone would think it was his baby being born in there, but given the fact that they had all established it most likely was, no one was going there. Instead they listened to Aramis complain about the king not being there and the rude look the midwife apparently threw his way.

“How long is this supposed to take exactly?” Aramis whines, he is staring at the door as if he can bore holes in it with his eyes through sheer force of will.

Before anyone can say anything, the door opens and a young, confused looking nurse is ushered out by her superiors. Apparently whatever news was coming, they didn't want to deliver it.

All of the musketeers jump up, jostling into each other by accident, all of them far more invested than anyone knew. They all step apart sheepishly, apart from Aramis who surges forward.

“Is she alright? Are they, is everything –“ Aramis stutters and Athos puts a hand on his arm to hold him back.

“Yes well, um – that is to say, i…the queen is asking for…” she looks around at the otherwise empty corridor. Seeing no one around she leans forward conspiratorially.

“Rene?” she whispers it, but it sounds as loud as a thunderclap, as everyone takes an awkward step back from Aramis. He turns to Athos, who nods once, and Porthos pushes him forward.

 

He follows the nurse in. Honestly, he had not known before, but this was more hectic than a battlefield. He avoids everyone as best he can as he is ushered around the big canopy bed to where Anne is laying. She looks exhausted and lost. He takes her hand. He tries to focus on her and ignore the fact no one in the room is meeting his eye. He can only hope that these women's compassion for the woman currently giving birth trumps their desire to report this to the king.

“Rene.” She smiles, her eyes finally regain some focus as she stares up at him. He wipes her hair from her brow where its stuck there.

“I’m here.” 

“I am afraid.” She says, her voice breaking.

“Well, what I do when I’m afraid, is I hold on…” He takes out the cross from where it hung under his shirt. “To this.” He places in in her hand and they hold it together. “And I think about everything I have that is good. And I pray that I see it…her again. And I tell myself, and I know, deep down, that I will. And then I am no longer afraid.”

The baby is born and he is healthy, and everything snaps back into focus. He holds him, briefly, and sees his own dark eyes reflected back at him. Anne’s arm is resting on his back as he leans in next to her, and the baby tries to grab at his necklace. He had been born on the whisper of names that only existed in here, he is a promise and a future and freedom from fear.

When Aramis finally is forced to leave, he decides that if his name were to only exist in one moment, it would be that one.


End file.
